I used to journal. I started in middle school. When I was that age I would have numerous and vivid dreams and I used my journal to document them. Over time, I treated it more as a diary and through high school and university my journals were logs of my heartbreaks, torments, and perceived inadequacies, with some bad poetry and free writing mixed in. After university, my journals took on a more "what is my place in the universe" kind of tone.
I still have a journal in my nightstand, but over the last three years only about fifteen pages have been filled. I absolutely blame Perry for this. I used to have such a craving to write my thoughts down. It was comforting to see my confusions with the world on paper. I would go back to my writing later and try to make sense of them and separate the muddled emotional mess from the true problem. It helped me a lot throughout my life.
Only my life hasn't been confusing since Perry came along. I distinctly remember writing in my journal years ago, lamenting how love, romantic love had never brought me peace. Love was always dizzying highs and lows. But now I think I have it. To me Perry is peace.
And it does disappoint me, frustrate me to know that I am fundamentally no different than where I was three years ago, and yet my view of myself and my life have changed so much...just because of a boy. The idea that I needed a romantic partner to "complete" my life has always been abhorrent to me. And maybe it's not true. I've had other partners, and none have them brought me this peace and calm.
No comments:
Post a Comment